Pretty When She Kills (Pretty When She Dies #2)

Pretty When She Kills (Pretty When She Dies #2) Page 35

“Seems so easy,” Pete remarked, wonder in his voice.

“Yep. Which is how I like things. Easy. No fuss, no muss,” Ethan answered. Walking through the dead grass, he searched for a gravestone. “Let’s start near the fence and hope we hit pay dirt.” Lifting the shovel, he slammed it hard into the packed earth. “Got a few more hours until sundown. Let’s make it count.”

Sergio already felt the sunlight pricking along his skin and the heat sucking the energy out of him. “For Amaliya,” he said, and broke ground with his shovel.

“For Amaliya,” Pete said in a prayerful tone.

Together, the three men began to dig.

Chapter 19

Amaliya tossed her waist-length hair over one shoulder and leaned forward on her elbows. The table wobbled slightly, sloshing the chai latte in her cup over the edge.

“Crap!” Amaliya exclaimed, fumbling for her napkin.

With smooth elegance, Professor Sumner blotted the spill with a few extra napkins. “There you go.”

“Thanks,” Amaliya said, embarrassed by her blunder.

She was trying so hard to be seductive and failing. It was the third time she had managed to spill her drink while trying to be coy. PJ Harvey’s deep voice was singing mournfully over the coffee shop’s sound system and the clank of dishes being washed were the only sounds other than their conversation. The coffee shop was nearly empty, its mismatched chairs and leaning tables devoid of the usual students cramming for their latest exam, or writing a paper.

“We all make mistakes, don’t we?” Professor Sumner said with a charming smile and a wink.

“And sometimes they’re enjoyable.” Flirtatiously, her eyes lingered on his handsome face as she took a sip.

With the Easter break underway, most of the students were out of town visiting with family. Amaliya had just finished doing laundry so she could pack and head home when Professor Sumner had knocked on her dorm door. She had been surprised to open the door and find the tall man with the keen blue eyes and long blond hair standing in the hallway.

“Care for a coffee?” he had asked in his refined English accent.

Amaliya knew she was foolish to go anywhere with one of her professors, but she hadn't thought twice before saying yes. Now sitting across from him, she wondered how long it would take for her to get him into bed. There was something intensely magnetic about the man. He was not her type in any way, but there was something about him that made her want to crawl over the table and ravish him. Though he was dressed simply in black trousers and a blue shirt under a soft leather coat, he exuded raw power and sensuality. She watched his fingers caress the mug filled with steaming black coffee that he’d barely sipped from.

“So why are you taking Psychology?” he asked, picking up the conversation again.

“I guess I want to know why my family is so fucked up,” Amaliya answered, shrugging.

“Are you thinking about pursuing a career in the field?” He tilted his head as he set his hand on the table a scant inch from her own. His nails were immaculately groomed and a thick antique gold ring glimmered on his ring finger. The blue of the sparkling stone matched his eyes.

Glancing at her fingernails, Amaliya wished she had touched up the polish. “I'm not sure yet. I'm still not sure what I want to do. I thought about maybe going into counseling and helping kids who are grieving, but I don't know.” She rubbed her arm, caressing her tattoo under her thin black sweater. It was her tribute to her mother, long gone, long dead.

“You went through a loss at a young age?” His intense blue eyes never strayed from her face and she felt her cheeks flushing despite the serious topic.

“Yes, my mother. A little later on, my little sister. I lost them both to cancer.” Amaliya sipped her drink, trying to ignore the pain inside of her. It was hard to think of her deceased loved ones and not feel lost and alone in the world. Her family had never recovered from the death of her mother and it had fallen apart completely at the death of her sister.

“Death changes everything, doesn't it?” Professor Sumner said, his fingers lightly stroking her fingertips.

She raised her eyes to see that he was gazing at her contemplatively. “Yes, it does.”

The sound of a cup falling drew Amaliya’s attention across the room. Bianca Leduc was on her hands and knees carefully picking up the shattered remains of her cup. The girl lifted her blue eyes and met Amaliya’s gaze.

Panicky to be spotted with their professor, Amaliya quickly looked away.

Professor Sumner fully took her hand in his and his thumb gently rubbed her palm. “Have you feared death since then?”

Nodding, Amaliya swept her hair over one shoulder to hide her face from Bianca. “It just seemed so cruel for them to die so young.”

“Die young and make a good looking corpse,” Bianca said in a low voice, walking past their table.

Amaliya twisted in her chair to retort, but the professor yanked on her hand, pulling her attention back to him.

“Are you afraid to die young?”

Uncomfortable, Amaliya squirmed in her rickety wooden chair. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Why?”

“It’s morbid,” she said crossly. She didn’t want to think about her mother and sister dying. She didn’t want to think about death. The purpose of this date was to finally get her hot professor into bed.

“Ah, but it’s the inevitable end that we all fight against, but never can escape...not fully.”

Amaliya stared down into her drink, her image reflected in the milky brown surface. “No, no, we can't.”

“You will be so pretty when you die,” Professor Sumner said, his hand stroking her cheek.

Amaliya lifted her head to find herself standing in the shadow of the dorm building. The light of the moon filtering through the treetops illuminated the professor's hair into a halo. His face was in shadow as he loomed over her.

“Your whole life you've been fleeing death even while you courted self-destruction,” his melodic, seductive voice whispered as his long, tall body pinned her to the cool concrete wall.

Amaliya's lips trembled as she tried to find the words to defend herself, but he was speaking the truth. His slender, silky fingers slid over skin as he traced her collarbone.

“Always living dangerously, dating all the wrong men, always taking the unnecessary risks, then running away when you realize you've gone too far. Isn't that the truth of your life?” His voice mesmerized her as he inclined his head toward her.

“Yes,” she answered in a hushed voice.

“Even tonight you came with me instead of packing your bags and going home. Why, Amaliya?”

“Because you're dangerous,” she answered, her heart thudding in her chest.

“Yes, I am.”

His kiss was searing, terrifying and consuming. She panted into his mouth as his lips and tongue danced with her own. Clinging to him, she moaned. His hands slid under her shirt and over her pierced nipples, making her whimper. The thrill of possibly being discovered and the subsequent scandal made his intense kisses and skilled caresses even more arousing. When he slid his hand into her jeans, she ground herself against his seeking fingers. Fingers gripping his jacket, she wanted him more than she had ever wanted anyone. His mouth, wet and warm, slid over her cheek to her throat while his hand stroked her aching sex.

The bite came savagely, the pain instantly unbearable. Overcome in agony, her mouth parted in a silent scream. Her lover held her against his body, and she heard him gulping her blood as he ravaged her neck. The excruciating hurt was too much to endure and her vision grew hazy, her hands flailing against him.

Dropping her to the ground, the vampire watched she trembled in agony. Her hands slid over her torn neck, the wound gaping and pumping blood.

“Yes, so very pretty as you die,” his proper British voice said with pleasure.

A whimper drew Amaliya's attention away from the vampire. Beside her Bianca lay staring at Amaliya with large beautiful eyes. Her hand strained toward Amaliya, seeking comfort. Bianca’s pale throat was gashed open and blood poured onto the ground. Amaliya struggled to touch the girl, wanting to console her even as she felt her own life fading.

“Do you really believe I would let you fade away forever? My beautiful, beautiful creations,” The Summoner's voice whispered.

Amaliya almost reached Bianca's trembling hand when The Summoner lifted her up and flung her.

Amaliya landed on a bed, gouts of blood bubbling up around her body. The bed was saturated with the blood and it was warm and sticky against her naked flesh. She was in the room where the secret orgy had been held. All around her were the dead of her first feast.

Gasping, she was overwhelmed with the smell and taste of blood. Her power surged while her hunger begged to be sated. Rolling onto her back, she lifted her hands to find them slathered in blood. Violently hungry, she licked her fingers, her body trembling with need.

Then The Summoner was there with her, his naked body pressing her into the blood-soaked linens. His white blond hair tumbled over her face as he kissed her bloody lips. Sharp teeth pulled at her tongue and lips, drawing blood, and she moaned with pleasure.